


We Gotta Stop Doing This

by noodlecatposts



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Cassian Getting Banned from Summer, Cassian is A Chaotic Drunk, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Cussing, Drinking, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, POV Azriel (ACoTaR), Prequel to Had Me A Blast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21539305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodlecatposts/pseuds/noodlecatposts
Summary: Honestly, I’m not sure how I ended up here. Again. No matter how many times I tell my brother thatthis time is the last time, I always find myself back here, at this drunken bastard’s side. Somehow, I fall for it. Every. Time.That’s what I tell myself, anyway, as my lips threaten to crack a smile back at Cassian’s mischievous drunkenness. I know exactly how I always end up woven into these half-baked drinking plans:I’ll never admit it aloud, but I love Drunk Cassian.OR, Azriel's telling of how exactly Cassian was banned from the Summer Court. And it wasn't for just one building.Prequel to Had Me A Blast.
Relationships: Azriel & Cassian & Rhysand (ACoTaR), Azriel & Cassian (ACoTaR), Azriel & Rhysand (ACoTaR), Cassian & Rhysand (ACoTaR)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 36





	We Gotta Stop Doing This

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Had Me A Blast](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21401983) by [noodlecatposts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodlecatposts/pseuds/noodlecatposts). 



> I have a friend from college who would always (and still does) manage to find himself in the wildest of situations. Like the kind of things that aren't supposed to actually happen in real life. Or sober. I feel like Cassian would be that friend for the Inner Circle, but worse?
> 
> As with Had Me A Blast, this is just a silly story about how Cassian got into so much trouble as to be banned **forever** from a court. I 100% believe that Azriel would get dragged along into that mess and spend the whole time trying to fix things while inevitably watching it all get worse.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Who the fuck does this guy think he is anyway?” Cassian takes another gulp from his bottle. I wish he’d left the damn thing back at the bar. So, we could sober up on the walk back to our rooms.

Cassian looks to me questioningly, waiting for the answer. I peer up at the face of the statue, thoughtful; the figure stands twice as tall as any building here in the revelry district, which makes quite the statement.

“It’s the first High Lord of Summer,” I tell my brother. The likeness to the current lord is there if a bit faint. Yet, those high lord bloodlines run far back into time, mixing with other families along the way. It’s unlikely that these many centuries later, the current lord would be the spitting image of his first, oldest ancestor.

He gapes at me in surprise. “Do you know _everything_?”

“It’s written on the plaque,” I gesture to the engraved stone inscription at the base of the statue, exasperated. As an afterthought: “Sorry, I forget you can’t read.”

Cassian bursts into laughter. I grin despite myself.

“High Lord Claudius,” I read as Cassian recovers, wiping tears from his eyes. I enjoy learning things like this. History, facts. It makes me good at my job.

But Cassian just scoffs. “More like High Lord Mr. Snooty Pants.”

I shoot him a look.

Honestly, I’m not sure how I ended up here. Again. No matter how many times I tell my brother that _this time is the last time_ , I always find myself back here at this drunken bastard’s side. Somehow, I fall for it. Every. Time.

That’s what I tell myself, anyway, as my lips threaten to crack a smile back at Cassian’s mischievous drunkenness. I know exactly how I always end up woven into these half-baked drinking plans:

I’ll never admit it aloud, but I love Drunk Cassian.

Cassian was halfway to shitfaced long before he ever decided to wake me up and haul me along with him.

Cauldron, I nearly slit the insufferable fool’s throat when his hand clamped down on my mouth as I slept—his way of waking me up gently, quietly.

When I came to realize that it was only my idiot of a brother, eyes already hazy from the drink and one finger over his mouth to urge me silently, I almost did it anyway.

“Azzie!” Cassian had whisper shouted in the dark. I could kill him and get away with it, I thought. I know how to hide a body—no one would ever know.

“Azzie!” He said again, an unreasonable volume that time around; Cassian released my mouth only to cover his own in shock at his volume. I took the opportunity to growl at him, make it very clear I wished to be left alone, to my sleep.

“What?” I hissed at him. I’d finally found some rest; it’s been days since my last decent rest.

“I met a girl,” Cassian told me dreamily. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes then. Cassian meets a girl every day.

“Why are we whispering?” I asked. Cassian looked at me as if I were the idiot waking up his brother in the middle of the night.

“Because Rhysie is sleeping,” Cass explained, dragging the e’s out in the word sleep. I aimed a look in his direction that said: _So was I._

“Come on!” He pleaded with me. “I need a wingman.”

I had half a mind to explain to him that if he’s already met a girl, the need for a wingman had passed, but my brother's concerned expression dragged me from the bed.

So, I went.

And here I am.

“I bet I can beat you to the top,” Cassian shoots me a crooked grin. I’m already exhausted by this excursion.

I roll my eyes at Cassian, who’s eyeing me hopefully. “You’re barely capable of standing upright as it is.”

“You doubt me, brother?” He feigns outrage. Perhaps, that isn’t the right word. Cassian does genuinely appear offended. The joy on his face replaces itself with fire quickly. Illyrian pride wounds easily.

As I narrow my gaze at him, I notice we’ve attracted an audience. The onlookers are, predictably, at various levels of inebriation as well. Still, there’s one female in the crowd that stands out from the rest of the group, and it's not because of her well-dressed appearance or the healthy shine of her cinnamon-colored hair, but because of the way she wiggles her fingers in a wave towards Cassian. The oaf looks positively star-struck, eyes wide, and a foolish smile is taking the place of the snarl he had aimed at me.

“That’s her!” His wave lacks the flirtatious grace of the female’s, but Cassian is rewarded with a giggle nevertheless. It renews his determination, and Cassian turns to me, previous slight already forgiven or, more likely, forgotten.

“Never took you for a coward, Azriel!” His tone is haughty, challenging. Even wasted, Cassian knows he’s trapped me neatly into a corner. I’ve never been able to back down from one of his dares. Regardless of the consequences.

The crowd mummers their excitement as Cassian begins to scale the statue without another look back at me. My brother already knows that he has me. I chance a glance again at the female. To my horror, she squeals with delight, hopping on her precarious heels, and clapping her hands. The bangles around her delicate wrists jingle, sparkling under the fae lights.

“You’re an idiot,” I yell at my brother’s back, even as I dig the toe of my boot into the stone. Cassian’s laugh is full of exhilaration.

I beat the moron to the top, but only by the skin of my teeth, something I’ll never admit to, even on pain of death. Cassian roars in outrage, yanking himself onto the High Lord’s shoulder while I catch my breath.

“You cheated!” Cassian jabs his finger into my chest hard. I rub at the spot as he whirls away from me, taking a peek at the gaggle of admirers. They cheer.

“Cassian,” I sigh. It’s hard to fight off the victorious smile. I like to win. Sue me. “How in the world could I have cheated?”

His brow furrows as he thinks. Hard. “I don’t know! But you did, you sneaky bastard!” Cassian’s lip trembles as he comes to some conclusion. I won’t like this. “Now she thinks me a fool! That’s why you challenged me, isn’t it?” He cries. There’s no point in reminding him of who actually issued the challenge. So, I don’t waste the effort. “You fancy her?”

“Actually,” I begin, thinking of the green-eyed male tending the bar with hair the color of wheat. “I rather liked—“

“I KNEW IT!” Cassian is as melodramatic as Mor at this moment. He sweeps his arms into the air, presses one hand to his chest as if it’ll hold the pieces of his heart together. He backs away from me, walking down the arm of the High Lord. The way he wobbles as he walks fills me with unease. “My very own brother! How could you?”

I rub at my temples, tempted to send for Rhys. He’s always had a way of talking Cassian down from these moods. I’d rather just shove him off this statue. Actually, that’s not too far off from Rhys’s methods.

“Cassian,” I decide on placating him, turning around to look him in the eye.

Just in time to watch my half-wit of a brother trip over the thumb of High Lord Mr. Snooty Pants and plummet towards the ground.

In slow motion, Cassian loses his footing along the curve of the statue’s thumb, too lost in his wailing to pay proper attention to his footing. The Illyrian shuffles his feet, trying to readjust his weight and save himself, but it’s a hopeless endeavor in Cassian’s sorry state.

Cassian’s wide hazel eyes meet mine just as he topples over the edge and into the air.

The crowd gasps in horror. I have to remind myself not to panic because, well, Cassian is an Illyrian. He has wings; he taught me to fly for Cauldron’s sake. All the idiot has to do is snap them out for a quick mid-air recovery. All is well that ends well.

Cassian doesn’t do any of those things, though. And as his great mass of wings and muscle and armor crashes through the roof of the bar we were just in, I realize, very suddenly and with no small amount of concern, that this will not end well. Not well at all.

“Fuck.” I hiss under my breath. I leap off the edge, and the crowd cheers when I unfurl my wings, gliding down after my idiot brother. I pray that this stupid moment is not the stupid moment that will one day claim Cassian’s life.

I discover the idiot lying in the remains of a few tables laughing. I land carefully beside him and assess the damage. At first sight, nothing appears to be broken, not on him anyways. A relief, I suppose.

The owner of the bar is the blue-haired faerie that storms us now, swearing in a language that I don’t recognize and is too fast to try and make sense of. The message is clear, just the same. The blood drains from my brother’s face as the fae rips into him; I don’t need to speak the language to know that what he says is unkind at best.

Over his shoulder, the fair-haired fae from before gives me an appreciative look. Suddenly very aware of myself, my wings flare out for a second in shock and at least a little excitement. I catch myself quickly, folding my wings in tightly, fighting the flush threatening my face. The male gives me a knowing smile. My stomach swoops and my wings twitch despite my best efforts.

The feeling distracts me long enough for Cassian to strike the tavern owner.

A flash of black Illyrian leathers in my peripheral is all the warning I get. I lunge for him, try to catch the moron, but Cassian is to fast, or I am too slow. I miss him, and Cassian fist connects.

Except, my brother, who I must remind myself that I love and adore, slams his fist into the burly looking male beside the tavern owner. The General of the Night Court’s armies. Misses.

The brawl comes to a standstill.

At first, Cassian appears confused about having missed. He tilts his head, eyeing the faeries before him, and I realize—he’s counting. My brother is seeing double and likely guessed which one of the blue-haired fae he could see cursing him to damnation was the real one. This male is one of the best warriors in Prythian.

Understanding clears my brother’s brow of its furrow. That lopsided grin returns. By this time, the burly one has recovered enough to respond.

I jump to Cassian’s defense.

How things can escalate so quickly.

Cassian and I fight without drawing our weapons. I find myself very conscious of how much force to put behind my blows. Our fellow bar mates aren’t battle-worn soldiers; I observe a male dressed in cerulean taffeta trip over his robes trying to get a hit in on Cassian. Some of these people are more of a danger to themselves than anyone else.

Cassian plows through them all, indifferent. He’s a brute in battle rage, flipping tables and fae alike. I do my best to have his back and assuage the damage at the same time.

A little corner of my head warns that Rhys is going to end our lives for this. That is if Summer doesn’t take them first.

At some point during the brawl, I find myself face to face with the bartender again. His fair hair is in striking disarray; we pause, and I check him over for damage. He gives me a sly grin that makes my heart skip a few beats.

Then the bartender decks me. I don’t know if his excellent right hook makes me want to pull him close or throw him across the room. Maybe both.

Cassian hollers something vulgar before I can decide. I look to my brother, checking his status, and I lose sight of the bartender in the fray.

Then someone yells that the buildings going to come down. Upon closer inspection, I can see the damage that has been done to the old little pub. Support beams have fractured from having fae knocked into them, and the roof sags precariously—the result of Cassian’s less than spectacular entry.

My brother howls like a blood-hungry wolf, tosses Burly through the nearest wall; the male flies through the next wall, too. And the next. A small miracle that that faerie does appear to be a fighter if maybe a less-than moral one. Then again, who am I to judge, as I participate in a brawl my brother chose to initiate in his drunken stupor?

The building trembles. People rush for the door in a flurry of skirts and jeweled sandals. Those with the ability winnow away from the emergency, disappearing in the blink of an eye. I snatch Cassian by the back of his jacket and drag him with me as I flee, slipping through the shadows and appearing outside the tavern.

Slowly the building crumples. The weight of the roof causes the exterior walls to lean precariously in either direction, and then they simply give in to their fate, fall over, and into the buildings on either side.

It’s probably about time to leave the Summer Court.

I search for my brother, planning to share my thoughts with him, but Cassian is simply gone from my sight. I whirl around, checking the premises, but the bastard is just gone.

An oddly familiar giggle leads me through the crowd; sure enough, I find my brother grinning down at the female from before. She giggles again at something clever that Cassian says, and I approach as Cassian lifts a bottle to his lips for a drink.

“Give me that,” I snarl at my brother, snatching the bottle from his hands before it can meet his lips. The liquid burns like acid down my throat, and I choke on it, my eyes watering. What the hell is this?

Cassian roars with laughter, patting me not too softly on the back. The female giggles as she watches us, and I resist the need to glare at her.

The sound of groaning wood distracts me. It’s a terrible, warning sound that makes the whispering crowd go silent. My gaze snaps back in the direction of the freshly decimated bar; its neighbors are struggling under the newfound weight, each having lost a wall of its own. They begin to shudder.

Perhaps, we Illyrians just aren’t meant to be in such large, breakable cities. Possibly, the Summer Court could use some better carpenters. For either of these reasons or even perhaps both, the buildings collapse. To my utter dismay, so do their neighbors and as do the ones after that.

I breathe a quiet prayer to the Mother.

In that way friends do, I glance to Cassian to judge his reaction, to see if he shares my opinion about our fate. But he’s gone from my side. I search for him again, locating him via a familiar flash of auburn hair.

“Where do you think you’re going, you bastard?” I call after him. Cassian flashes me an unapologetic grin before allowing himself to be led away. I run a hand through my hair.

Dead. We are so dead. And if we’re not, I’ll kill Cass myself.

The Summer Guard appears in less than record time. Honestly, where were they when the brawl broke out? Or when two Illyrian warriors from the Night Court decided to scale their ostentatious fucking statue? Have they woken Rhys yet? Should I?

The guards approach Blue, the tavern owner. The male looks grievous at the turn of events. I watch from my place in the crowd as he speaks with big gestures to the armed fae before him.

Then they turn to me. Shit.

I draw the shadows nearby close, wrapping them around myself and using them to become invisible. The guard hurries to my last location, but I am gone from there now, off to find my brother.

As I search for Cassian, the guards send for reinforcements. Everyone knows how hard it is to take down an Illyrian warrior, and they have two on the loose and wreaking havoc. Honestly, I’m offended. Like I would ever _get caught_ in my mischief.

I find Cass tucked down a backway, wrapped around the female from before. They’re making out like a pair of teenagers in heat, definitely not an image I ever wanted in my brain. Impatient to be as far away from Summer has possible, I let loose a growl, startling the couple apart. I grab Cassian by the collar of his jacket and tug him away, shooting the female a warning glare not to follow.

“Azzie,” Cassian pouts, flushed from his tête-à-tête. He struggles to free himself from my grasp. “You make a terrible wingman.”

I level him with my best glare. “And yet, you chose to wake me up rather than Rhys.”

Cassian shrugs, unconcerned. “Rhysie was sleeping.”

“ _I was sleeping!_ ” I exclaim.

The stomping of boots catches both of our attention. When I turn towards the noise, it’s as I expected. Summer soldiers prowl the city streets looking for those responsible for tearing down the district. Looking for us.

“Oohhh,” Cassian singsongs. “Azzie, I think we’re in trouble.”

“Think? Let us ask them to be sure.”

Cassian looks inclined to do just that. Horror strikes me in the gut as he nods in agreement with my words, heading off in the direction of the soldiers.

The guards take notice of him quickly; we stand out with our large frames and dark wings. One orders my brother to stand down, but the fool flashes them a smile and waves in greeting, urging them to come closer. The guards’ blades hiss metallically as they draw them.

I bend the shadows quickly this time, materializing beside Cassian in the blink of an eye. He startles at the sight of me, laughs at my angry face. I grab him by the belt, dragging him away from the would-be scuffle. We need to hurry.

“Run, you idiot!” I order him, giving him a shove for good measure. My sense of urgency appears to break through his drunken haze at last, and we take flight. He doesn’t look too drunk to fly, wings moderately steady. For all the skills required of it, once you have it down, flying is more instinct than anything else. Small miracles.

In the air, I allow myself to relax. So, we’ll head home a bit early. Rhys will understand. At least once they wake the poor male up, tell him of all the trouble Cassian and I have caused. We’ll get an earful for sure, and we’ll probably never be allowed to go on diplomatic excursions again, but at least everyone’s heads will still be attached to their bodies.

Therefore, imagine my dread when Cassian banks left.

I wait for him to correct his trajectory. Perhaps, he caught a downwind and needs a moment to adjust. The way home to the Night Court is to the North. Velaris is to the North. Cassian knows this.

Apparently, Drunk Cassian does not know this.

Realizing the error in placing my faith in my inebriated brother, I struggle to catch up with him, pumping my wings to make up lost seconds. Cassian sings a bawdy tune as his flies west towards the sea. Towards the beaches, he loves so much.

Towards a whole detachment of Summer Court sea ships.

His song says something about pirates and treasure, swooping princess off their feet.

I realize that he has no plans of stopping at the beach, and I make a desperate move to stop him from certain death. I speed to his side, ignoring his delighted cries of “Azzie!” and grab hold of him by his middle. Then I use our collective weight to drag both of us down to the ground.

I’d rather face off with a few foot soldiers than be charged with an act of war, which battling even a few of the battleships would undoubtedly count as.

Cassian struggles to keep us afloat, confusion written plainly on his face. He doesn’t understand why I would tell him to fly, only to drag him back to the ground. Part of me feels a little sorry for this, for having him crash for the second time tonight. This is going to hurt both of us.

We smash into the white sands of the beach in a clatter of wings and weapons and armor. The ground quakes and I begin to calculate the probability of a tidal wave. How much force does one need to trigger such a thing? The snapping of a twig can quickly bring down the wrath of the mountains during the winter snows. Is the sea so fickle?

Cassian grunts beneath me. I scramble off of him. He looks stunned by the turn of events, turning to me for the explanation. I search for the right words, but " _You’re a fucking idiot"_ doesn’t seem to convey everything I am feeling right now.

“Unless you moved to Hybern and forgot to tell me,” I arch one brow at Cassian, “you were going the wrong way.”

“I was going to the boats,” Cassian explains, albeit the words come out tentative.

The sound of military-issued boots softened upon the soft, giving sand catches my attention. Before I can formulate another plan, a head of brilliant snowy hair appears above us, peering down into the crater that our crashing landing formed. My sources say his name is Varian, the captain. Cassian tenses and that crooked grin of his returns.

“By order of the High Lord,” the male tells us with a voice of authority. Cassian’s eyes sparkle with excitement.

“He’s not talking about Rhys, Cass.” My brother frowns in disappointment. I allow for a sigh to escape my lips.

Face to face with the Summer guard, I know that it is pointless to try and run. I could winnow us away, I suppose, but something tells me that doing so would only make matters worse for Rhys. Besides, it takes a lot of energy to move through space in such a manner, and I’ve already done it twice. Luck would have it that I end up in Winter and unleash Drunk Cassian upon the mountains. I should like to offend only one court this week.

“I command you to stand down and come with us at once.” The captain finishes, eyes flickering between the two of us.

“Did ya hear that, Azzie?” Cassian asks me with a feral glint in his eyes. I know I won’t like what comes next. “He _commands_ us.”

“Yes, captains tend to do that sort of thing, General.”

“Ha!” Cassian’s laugh barks out of him without warning; he is the only person I’ve ever met so inclined to laugh in the face of danger. “Do you hear that, _Captain?_ I outrank you.”

As if he’d somehow forgotten. I release a breath of air slowly. Little by little, my brother chips away at the likelihood that this disastrous evening might end well. I pray luck is on our side.

“Will you come willingly?” Varian growls. He’ll lose patience with us soon enough.

“Let’s settle this like males!” Cassian roars, suddenly. The soldiers peering down at us, balk at the battle cry.

“Please let’s not,” I mutter under my breath. Though Cassian does not hear my plea, he launches himself out of the crater, using his wings to propel him forward in a show of grace and power, belying his level of sobriety.

I suppose we’ve at least dug our grave already. They can just roll our corpses back into the hollow space our crash landing created, fill it in and call it a night.

I press down on the space between my eyes, a tension headache brewing behind them. Then I launch into the air, clearing the wall of the crater and landing beside my brother with a spray of sand.

“You’re just jealous!” Cassian points an accusing finger at the male. By the mother, what did I miss? The guards prepare for battle. “You wish your hair was as beautiful as mine, you fucker!”

I watch in abject horror as my brother tosses his hair over his shoulder. The captain’s lips twitch in what threatens to be a smile. I hope that it is a good sign. My records have always said that the captain is a kind, fair male; perhaps, if we give him a good laugh, he’ll just let us go?

The guard’s weapons hiss as they draw them, and I wrap my fingers around the hilt of Truth Teller by the pure instinctive reaction to defend myself. I leave the trusted blade within its sheath, prepared to pull it out only if I have to, only if everything truly and utterly goes to shit. The second a pair of Illyrian warriors spills fae blood, there will be war.

“Dance off!” Cassian declares, stomping his feet. He tugs at the knot at the back of his head, tightening it and preparing for quasi combat. He raises his arms in invitation. “Right here! Right now!”

Oh, Cauldron. No.

Everyone dawdles, hands on their blades. I watch as the guards eye their captain with uncertainty. I imagine we are not turning out to be the wicked, fearsome creatures of legend.

Cassian snaps his fingers to a beat only he can hear.

“Ready, set, go!” My brother wiggles in his boots; I don’t think I’ve ever seen the set of moves he begins to unleash upon our adversaries. And I’ve seen more than my fair share of his dancing throughout the years.

I think I might just die from embarrassment.

“C’mon, Azzie!” Cass flashes me an excited smile; he points one finger into the air while the other rests on his hip. “Back me up!”

“You look to have things well under control,” I tell him, mortified.

We all simply watch as Cassian moves. My brother shakes his hips in a way I’ll never be able to unsee, and then he takes a step towards Captain Varian, pulling along on an invisible rope.

The captain looks to me in question. _Is this guy serious?_ His eyes ask me.

I look to the night sky, unable to watch how this plays out. _Very_ , my reaction tells the captain.

Just as I am convinced that things couldn’t possibly get worse, Cassian loses his footing. The soft sand gives way under his boot, and the General of the Night Court, one of the most Powerful Illyrians to ever exist and my brother, topples face-first into the beach. Right at the feet of Captain Varian.

The captain eyes the collapsed Illyrian carefully then turns his attention to where I stand. He opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.

“Hand over my weapons. Make no sudden movements. Come quietly,” I say as I begin to detach Truth Teller from its place at my hip. It pains me to toss the blade into the sand. I reach for another knife hidden up my sleeve. “Yes, I know the drill.”

A few of the guards begin to snicker as Cassian starts to snore from his bed in the sand. Varian’s mouth threatens to curve into another smile. “I was going to say that I thought you Illyrians might hold your drink better than this.”

He gestures towards Cassian. I sigh, exasperated. I have no words of defense for my brother, not at this time.

“We’ve already sent for your High Lord.” The captain nods back towards the Palace of Adriata. “Let’s go. Don’t forget to bring your brethren. You’ve already spent so much of the evening trying to catch him.”

And so, I grab hold of Cassian by an ankle, hauling him after me and back to the palace. Rhys will be mad at first, but later we’ll all laugh about it. We'll laugh about how Cassian single-handedly tore down the Summer Court; about how Cassian, a _winged-faerie_ , managed to fall out of the sky not once, but _twice_ in a single evening; and we'll laugh about how he never even learned the name of the girl that got him into all this trouble. 

And if my brother thinks I have any intention of ever letting him live the evening down, he’ll find himself sorely mistaken.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're interested, Had Me a Blast is about Rhys picking his brothers up afterward.
> 
> Thoughts, opinions, and snarky comments are always welcome! :)


End file.
